What Should I Have Done
by Catching Signals
Summary: The friday before spring break, the school goes on lockdown. Ponyboy happens to meet a man who'd been planning a school shooting. First story.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone. First story. Notes at the end.**

**This is set the school year before the book. So, Pone would be 13.**

_**Pony's POV**_

Kids around me were talking up a storm. I could almost see dark clouds hovering beneath the ceiling, the classroom's excitement causing loud lightning strikes, flashes of white.

Well, it sure felt that way.

Spring break was approaching- it was Friday. After four more long hours, school would be out for a week.

I had been sitting in my table beside the teacher's desk, trying to read. Mrs. Scott was in her chair, lost in her own book, completely ignoring her class. I don't know how she could read with the noise and all, but she didn't seem to mind.

A group of girls laughed loudly at something. Probably some Soc who'd told them a lame story, trying to impress them. Whatever it was, it must have been mighty funny, because they were so loud Mrs. Scott's head snapped up.

"Students, calm down. Students!" she said, failing to grab anyone's attention. That is, anyone's but mine. She looked at me and exclaimed, "Oh! Ponyboy, I need you to take a note to Ms. Holt for me. Thank goodness I remembered."

I was Mrs. Scott's aide that hour. All I really did was take notes to other teachers for her and take the attendance to the office. Most of the time I read or worked on homework.

"Room 28." She handed me a folded and taped note. On the front was 'Ms. Holt' in pretty cursive writing.

I nodded and walked out of the room, into the hallway, glad to be away from all of the students. I liked walking in the quiet hallways while everybody else was in class. Not being pushed by random people or having to watch out for Socs.

Turning into the main hall, I saw a tall man walking in front of me. He was dressed in baggy dark jeans and a black shirt. Noticing I was walking behind him, looked over his shoulder at me. His face was clean and he smiled at me, but it didn't reach his eyes.

I didn't smile back, I just looked away awkwardly. Something didn't seem right about this man. He had the air of a hood. His wide, darting eyes looked like those of a lunatic.

He turned to a water fountain, not looking at me any more. On his chest I saw the bright orange sticker that meant he was a visitor, allowed in the school by the office. I still didn't feel like he was supposed to be there, though.

I continued walking, turning down another hall, almost to Ms. Holt's classroom. I heard the noise of the water fountain stop.

What I didn't hear was the man quickly walking towards me. I was at the door, about to knock when I felt a strong arm wrap around my neck, pulling me back, and something hard shoved into my neck, right below my jaw.

"Scream and I'll shoot," the man said quickly, and I held in a scream, choking. My eyes darted around, looking for someone, but nobody came.

_Oh my god- There's no way this is happening. This has gotta be a nightmare. Who the hell shoots up a school? _I stared at the heater out of the corner of my eye. I felt it digging into my skin, I felt my pulse racing something fierce, I felt the man's breath on my face as he leaned to whisper in my ear.

"Good boy. Now knock on the door." I felt my face heat up. I was being used. I couldn't let this happen.

I struggled to get out of his grasp but he had me in a headlock. When I kicked the heel of my Chuck Taylors into his shin as hard as I could, he growled angrily and shot a bullet into the carpet. A warning shot.

Now I knew the heater was loaded. I could really die here.

"Open the door." he said, still angry but quiet.

I watched my hands shake while they reached for the door handle. I didn't know where the note had gone, but I guess it didn't really matter, did it? The door opened and it was silent.

Staring at me were twenty seven pairs of eyes. Every one of them looked confused, scared, and defenseless. Including Johnny, who was sitting in the row of desks closest to the door.

Johnny! I locked eyes with him as students started screaming and ducking under their desks. Suddenly, he didn't look scared, he looked angry. He looked tough. He slowly moved out of his desk and onto his knees on the floor.

A siren went off, telling the school to go into lockdown mode. The man behind me cursed and waved his heater around, aiming at each student. They all cowered when it was their turn to be the target. It was weird, watching a bunch of kids older than me shake in fear.

I shook, too. You better believe it. A million thoughts were racing through my head. Should I try to run? Should I attack him? Save my upperclassmen or save myself?

Of course I couldn't save only myself. I had to save Johnny, and I wasn't heartless enough to let everyone die.

Finally, the man chose his first target, none other than Johnny Cade, who had a look on his face that said very clearly: bring it on.

Stupid. It wasn't the time to act tough. He looked me in the eyes again. I could tell he wanted me to take the man on with him. He didn't think the man would shoot yet. A blade appeared in his hand, but I didn't pay much attention to him after that, because I could tell the man was going to shoot.

I didn't think, really. My first instinct was to protect Johnny, don't ask me why. Maybe it was because we were best friends. Maybe it was because I knew he was being too reckless, too cocky this time, and that it would end with him hurt bad.

It happened quickly. I put all my weight on my hands, bringing down the heater. My hands felt real hot all of a sudden, like they were on fire.

"Get the gun!" someone yelled loudly. The man had been caught off guard and his grip around my neck had loosened. I turned and kicked him hard, I don't know where, pulling the gun toward myself. It was hard though. My hands were wet for some reason and I couldn't keep my grip.

Johnny was there beside me in an instant. He punched the man hard in the jaw, again and again. Then the man was out cold and his grip on the gun slacked. He fell backwards, into the door at that.

I slumped down to the floor, sure feeling dizzy. Johnny was right beside me, saying, "You okay, Pony?" I tried to stand and he helped me, but it was too much. I looked down at my hands. They were covered in red. Actually, pretty much everything was. My clothes and parts of the carpet were stained crimson.

I blacked out while Ms. Holt was tying tight strips of cloth around my arms and telling my to keep my hands above my head.

**Tell me what you think, please? I probably was terrible at characterization. Please criticize me!**

**Should I up the grammar a bit, or is it fine like this? For Pone?I was thinking writing the next chapter from Johnny's POV. Or do you wanna know what happens to Pony? Should I even continue?**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

It was weird having so many people rush around me, poking at me, asking me questions. I never really liked having so much attention, especially from perfect strangers.

Opening my eyes slightly, I saw a bright light from the ceiling and heard the harsh sound of a siren. I was in an ambulance.

I closed my eyes and bit the inside of my cheek in pain. My right hand felt terrible, like it'd been run over with a car. "Ow!" I whined; someone was messing with it.

"He's awake, get him some anesthesia," someone else barked. Head pounding, I looked at the guy sticking tools into my hand. I felt sick. Drying blood was all over my arm. The cloth that Ms. Holt had tied above my elbow had been replaced by tight rubber bands.

"Sorry kid, gotta stop the bleeding." A different man patted my other arm with blue medical gloves distractedly. I hated the feeling. Then he took a needle and slipped it into my arm. I wouldn't have noticed if I wasn't watching him do it.

"Can you answer some questions for me before the sleep kicks in?" No, I didn't want to, but he went ahead anyway. "What's your name?"

"Ponyboy Curtis," I said, not really wanting to talk. My voice sounded weird and distant, like I hadn't heard it in a while.

The man had a funny look on his face. I was used to it. He probably thought I'd been hit in the head, though. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"And when is your birthday?" I was already starting to feel tired and unable to move.

"July 22nd… Is Soda coming?" I tried to mumble, but I'm not sure if it came out right, because I was knocked out right about then.

Groggily, I moved to rub my eyes and was hit in the face by a mass of bandages on my hand. For a minute or so I stared at my hands, trying to focus. My right hand had a cast on it that looked like a winter mitten, and it was aching, I could hardly stand it. The other just had a bit of cotton and bandage on my middle finger.

I rested my hands on my stomach. Staring at the ceiling, I slowly replayed Friday's events in my head. Taking a note, the weird man in the hallway, a lot of blood, Johnny socking the guy good. Man, Darry was gonna be mad at both of us.

Thinking of Darry, I whipped my head to the side fast, and sure enough, he was sitting in a chair, just watching me. His forehead was creased and his mouth was a dark line. I could tell he was angry, Darry was always angry.

I frowned, feeling my own eyebrows furrow, and sat up. Putting weight on my cast-hand hurt like no other, I soon realized. While I was clutching my hand, rocking back and forth, and mouthing to myself "Oh gosh", Darry shouted out the door.

Soda peeked his head around the door frame, his wide eyes going right to me. "Oh, Pony, you're awake!" he declared, then said quickly to the phone, "I'll call you back later, Steve, bye!"

I rolled my eyes as he dropped the phone to come hug me. There was a thud as the phone swung back out to the hall and hit something. He hadn't even bothered to hang up.

He hugged me for a long time, his chin on my head, then for good measure he picked me up, shook me like a rag doll, and messed up my hair. I usually would've been annoyed with my hair, but it probably looked terrible anyway. Two-Bit had walked in and was standing next to us.

"Man, took you long enough to wake up. They took you off anesthesia last night and you still slept like a baby!" Soda told me. How long was I out? I hoped I still had a few days of the break left.

"Yeah, you shoulda seen your face. Can anyone say 'poster child for innocence'? Brought tears to my eyes." Two-Bit mockingly wiped his eye then smiled at me. I tried not to laugh as I raised a fist to take a swing at him, but he dodged it easily and shook a finger at me. Soda grabbed my arm.

"Hey, watch it. Don't mess up your hand any worse than it already is," Darry said, he was standing and pointing at me. He walked out of the room.

"How bad is it? How long am I gonna have to wear this thing?" I asked Soda, holding up my cast hand. My voice scratched my throat and I had to cough.

"Not that bad. He says it'll take a few weeks for the stitches to heal, but you got pins to take care of your bones for a month or so. You're gonna have to wear the cast until everything's healed up."

I groaned. A month or so without wrestling or playing football with the gang, without being able to write or comb my hair right. I already felt frustrated.

"Shoot kid, what'd you expect, taking a bullet like that? A band-aid and a milkshake?" Two-Bit chimed in. Soda shot him a look and put an arm around my shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah." I said, not wanting a lecture to start. "At least I get to keep the bullet as a souvenir." I didn't want to keep it at all, really.

"No baby," Soda said slowly. "The bullet got picked up by the fuzz as evidence, back at your school. You got hit at point blank, so it went straight through. Right?"

That started a whole flood of questions in my mind. Did the bullet bounce and hit anything, or anyone? What happened to the man and all the kids? Is Johnny okay? Was anyone else hurt?

While I was mentally tripping over all of these thoughts, I asked a most intelligent question: "So… there's a hole in my hand?"

Soda and Two-Bit laughed, which pulled my out of my thoughts. "Not any more, you got a skin graph from your leg so it'll heal faster." Soda explained.

Darry walked back in and said in a low voice, "We can leave." He grabbed his jacket from the chair he was in and walked back out. The three of us scrambled after him, me tripping on myself while blood rushed to my head, Soda holding me up, and Two-Bit behind us laughing.

**Sorry if this chapter is uneventful and short, but I didn't want to wait any longer to you all for the story alerts, faves, and reviews. I was really shocked and happy that you guys would take the time to read and review. Critiques really do help me, thank you for them! I'll definitely work on my mistakes. Please don't go easy on me! **

**I'll stop rambling, then. Until next time~**


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